The present Doodle, shown by Hamburg-based visitor craftsman Ramona Ring, commends the German-Jewish writer Mascha Kaléko, whose sharp sonnets and chansons earned her striking praise among the abstract vanguard in 1930s Berlin. On this day in 1974, Kaléko held her last perusing in Berlin’s America Memorial Library.
Mascha Kaléko was conceived Golda Malka Aufen in 1907 in Schidlow, Galicia, in what is today southern Poland. With the episode of World War I, she and her family fled the nation for Germany and in the long run made another home in Berlin in 1918.
As a young person, she started to compose verse, and inside quite a long while, she accomplished a degree of VIP as papers started distributing her work all through the capital. In Kaléko’s sonnet “Das Bißchen Ruhm” (“A Little Bit of Glory,” 2003) she figuratively composed of her notoriety as plants that must be kept up with day by day care, an idea reflected in the outline of the present Doodle.
By the mid 1930s, Kaléko was a built up figure among Berlin’s artistic cutting edge. She could regularly be discovered somewhere down in discussion at the Romanische Café, the notorious bohemian center point frequented by eminent counterparts like Else Lasker-Schüler and Erich Kästner.
In 1933, she distributed her first book, “Das Lyrische Stenogrammheft” (“The Lyrical Shorthand Pad”), followed two years after the fact by “Kleine Lesebuch für Große” (“The Little Reader for Grown-Ups”). Kaléko’s work cleverly caught the substance of day by day metropolitan life during the dusk of the Weimar Republic and through sarcastic stanzas investigated profound topics like social shamefulness and outcast.
After almost twenty years spent in the United States, Kaléko got comfortable Israel and kept on composing verse for an amazing remainder.
